The Dead Works of Vanity
by Agent420
Summary: Inordinate self-love is the cause of every sin.


THE DEAD WORKS OF VANITY by Agent420

Disclaimer: I own the nasty boozer guy, but not the pretty assassin. Go fucking figure.

This is what happens when I am at a computer with lots of free time and won't work. The title comes from a poem by Thomas Merton titled "Prayer Against the Seven Deadly Sins." This story centres round the sin of Pride. May be the first in a series, if I can get inspired to write again. Such a thing rarely happens.

In the twisted dark corridors of the city a young man stood, his black form outlined in neon light as the city's stars beat down upon him. His form was so slight that it seemed to be part of the wet black walls of the alley, a fluid piece of night flitting from one shadowed corner to another. The white face was shrouded in jet black hair as he kept his head bowed, his smooth pale lips parted delicately to admit a cigarette. He remained a still, silent form, pressed to the wall of the building behind him, a fragile sliver of midnight.

Only when the sound of heavy footsteps reached his ears did he look up, and the darkness ended to permit silvery moonlight. A face more beautiful and hypnotic than the voice of siren caught the eye of the stranger who had turned into the alley, halting his progress with startling abruptness.

A lustful smile curved the wide, rough lips of the stranger as his eyes explored the exquisite planes of the young man's body. The boy in black cocked his raven head, his pale plump lips turning in response.

"Well, aren't you pretty," the stranger remarked, shifting his weighty form to one side as he continued to eye the enshrouded young man. "You on business, or are you going to kill me for asking such a stupid question?"

The young man smirked and stepped forward, so the light from the neon sign above burst alive in his eyes. A short gasp issued from the stranger's throat. For cutting through his senses, burning down his throat and shocking his heart were the eyes of two completely different individuals; one a deep and shocking amber, the other a woeful emerald.

"Damn, you're beautiful," he breathed. "I'd pay anything for you."

"Anything?" whispered the boy in black, drawing close and brushing his fingers against the tall man's lapel. "You'd offer anything, without even knowing who I am?"

"Why does that matter?" the man grumbled, clumsily flinging his arm round the boy's waist and crushing him against his body. The vodka was still fresh in his system, dulling the lines of his vision so he saw nothing but red light, mismatched eyes and sex.

"But of course it matters," the young man murmured seductively, lifting the cigarette to his full white lips and licking delicately at the filter. "You think I'm beautiful, don't you? But...what if I'm wearing a mask? What if what you see is just some beautifully fabricated illusion, made to twist your senses just enough so that nothing else matters?"

The man grunted and nuzzled the boy's swan neck, his unshaven lips devouring the smooth white skin. "You're not makin' sense, sweetheart..."

"Why not? You do it every day," the young man continued, standing still and compliant as the stranger continued to ravish him. "You go out and drink yourself numb, then rape and destroy to your heart's content. Then in the morning you return to your wife, content as you'll ever be, because it was all the alcohol's fault. 'Don't worry, honey, I'll stop drinking tomorrow. I won't ruin our lives anymore. I promise.' Does that make sense to you?"

The man pulled roughly away, his face screwed and wretched with shock. "H-how do you—Who the fuck /are/ you?!"

With frightening suddenness the boy pounced, his hand slipping into the fleshy cavity of the man's chest and closing round his heart. Blood spurted from the man's twisted face, and the boy stood still for a moment to watch the life drain out of it. He drew his hand back, fingers clutched round the slippery little muscle.

The body fell messily to the ground, and the young man watched as myriad sweet-smelling flower petals fell like rain to gather about the corpse. Another victim tempted, swayed, and claimed. A glutton, a lush, a rapist, and a deviant....but did that make it right?

Subaru watched the body fade, and whispered out loud the answer to the man's final question.

"Why does that matter?"

FINIS


End file.
